


A '''''''''Fake'''''''' Date

by The_Gay_Infiltrator



Series: 24 Days of Fanfic for Cowgirlchica [13]
Category: Sherlock (TV), the biggest fucking queerbait of all time apparently
Genre: M/M, honestly an excuse for mystrade, i wanna shoot Mofftiss, idk im kinda shook i dont know how to tag, sorry but im so fucking shook
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 19:11:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9339035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Gay_Infiltrator/pseuds/The_Gay_Infiltrator





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cowgirlchica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowgirlchica/gifts).



Mycroft didn't know how he had gotten himself into this mess. Well. He did know, he had agreed to go to this, but also, how did he agree to go to this? He needed a date for this function, and he didn't have one. Which meant that he had to find a date before tomorrow night, and who would want to be his date? He had no plausible options. There was always Greg, but he didn't want to impose. Of course, what else could he do? He needed a date, and nobody else was available. Of course, it wouldn't be an actual date, just a fake date so he could go to this function. He texted Greg, assuring him it would be completely fake, and was pleasantly surprised when he agreed. Now that was one less problem he had to worry about. The next thing was, did Greg have a tux? Again, Mycroft was pleasantly surprised when it turned out that he did, so that was another problem out of the way. 

Mycroft rolled up in front of Lestrade's house at exactly seven the next night, dressed in a well-cut suit with a white rose in his buttonhole. Greg came out of the door, also dressed in a well-cut suit, but with a red rose instead. Mycroft subtly examined his appearance, and noted that Lestrade looked quite ravishing in his suit. Mycroft drove them, a rare occurence, since he usually had a chauffeur, but he felt the need to drive his ‘date’ personally. 

They pulled up at the banquet hall, which had light spilling from large, curtained windows, although you could see the silhouette of at least three chandeliers on the ceiling on the rich curtains. Lestrade took Mycroft's arm, and they walked through the large, ornate door. Inside, there was no less than five crystal chandeliers, and Greg gasped in awe at the light cast and split by the crystals. Some couples were dancing to an orchestral tune, some were sitting at tables sipping fancy alcohol, and some were talking animatedly about business deals and the like. Lestrade hung on Mycroft's arm the whole night, unsure if he was just copying the other couples or if he just didn't want to let go. He had to reprimand himself mentally for reading too much into this. It was a fake date, it meant nothing. 

The evening passed quite quickly. Everything went very smoothly at the function, and Mycroft managed to secure three deals. Things started to go off the rails when Lestrade suggested they go to a pub after, since they ‘didn't have proper drinks there’. Mycroft couldn't refuse, especially because he felt he owed Greg a favour. They kept drinking and drinking. Lestrade was head over heels tipsy, and even the immaculate Mycroft was looking a little bit disheveled and buzzed as Lestrade slid him his ninth shot. Lestrade had always thought Mycroft was kind of attractive, especially so when his pants fit his arse so perfectly, and possibly getting drunk with him might have been a bad idea, but that was done, and getting drunk they were. “You're cute, do you know that?” Greg said, poking Mycroft's chest.   
Mycroft swayed in his seat. “I'm cute?” He slurred.   
“Yes, you bloody are cute!”   
Mycroft blushed, and found himself inching his face closer to Greg’s. He hadn't noticed it before, but Lestrade was really attractive. He crept closer. Lestrade noticed, and also moved forward, until their lips met in the middle. 

Mycroft woke up, head still slightly spinning. It was the day after the function, right? There was a pair of arms wrapped around his waist. For that matter, there was a whole human pressed against his back. A naked human who seemed very much like Greg Lestrade. “Morning, Mycroft.” Lestrade murmured.   
“Good morning, Gregory.” Mycroft returned.   
“I stand by what I said last night. You're very cute.”  
Mycroft decided not to pursue the topic of how Greg remembered that. “You're not too bad yourself.”  
“You're such a tease.”  
“Oh, shut up, Gregory.”


End file.
